


Episode 2 - Orientation

by 1TakeJohnny



Series: Short Skirt, Long Jacket [2]
Category: Clone High, Daria (Cartoon), Kim Possible (Cartoon), Legally Blonde - All Media Types, The Middleman (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Crossover, Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 12:30:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1605263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1TakeJohnny/pseuds/1TakeJohnny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daria says a heartfelt goodbye to her family, and a grudging hello to her new classmates. She faces public embarrassment, awkward ice-breakers, scrutiny from her peers, and attacks on her senses (both physical and mental) before the day is through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (as with Episode 1, the art was commissioned by Shiwaart, whose works you can find and commission for yourself at http://www.fiverr.com/shiwaart )
> 
> For those unfamiliar with the various fandoms being smashed together here, we've got:
> 
> Elle Woods and Warner Huntington III, from Legally blonde
> 
> Ron Stoppable, Bonnie Rockwaller (and eventually Kim Possible), from Kim Possible
> 
> Lacey Thornfield and Noser (and eventually Wendy Watson), from The Middleman
> 
> (Clone of) Joan of Arc, from Clone High
> 
> For those who are curious, President Jones’s speech is stolen (in-universe, mind you) from here: http://news.stanford.edu/news/2003/september24/hentext-924.html
> 
> SOUNDTRACK!  
> Phantom Planet - Lonely Day (Daria's walk)  
> Ja Rule f. Ashanti - Always on Time (stadium PA system)  
> The Distillers - The Young Crazed Peeling (Joan's first appearance)  
> Wyclef Jean - Gone Till November (The Morgendorffers' goodbyes)  
> Snoop Dogg f. Dr. Dre - The Next Episode (Eaton 103)  
> Suicidal Tendencies - Institutionalized (Jake's fight with security)  
> Bikini Kill - Rebel Girl (Lacey's theme)  
> P.Diddy - Bad Boy for Life (Warner's theme)  
> Cristina Aguilera - Dirrty (Bonnie's theme)  
> Alien Ant Farm - Movies (Joan's theme)  
> Gorillaz - 19-2000 (Ron's theme)  
> Lauryn Hill - Everything Is Everything (Noser's theme)  
> Wheatus - Teenage Dirtbag (Daria's embarrassing moment)  
> Green Day - Church on Sunday (Joan and Daria go for pizza)  
> TLC - Unpretty (Elle's pity party)  
> Offspring - I Choose (the crowbar's theme)
> 
> assemble yourself, or use this spotify playlist. https://play.spotify.com/user/1takejohnny/playlist/1wKsWIF3QWS94dFohxdCDV

Daria strode away from Poplar Hall as quickly as she could without breaking into a run. She could still hear the sounds of the hydraulic catapult on the lawn behind her, and the occasional gasp from the crowd that had begun to grow around the building. As much as she might love to watch those idiots damage themselves and others, she didn't want to risk getting crushed by a falling suitcase. She checked her watch and saw that it was nearly time for the convocation ceremony to begin. Her father and sister were likely already there, and hopefully saving her a seat.

 

As she made her way across the campus to the stadium, she took in the atmosphere of the campus. Swarms of parents and staff notwithstanding, it really was gorgeous. There was no climbing ivy or historic landmark plaques like the ones Bromwell so pointedly featured, but the brick buildings had a classic charm about them that made the quad feel almost like something out of a nineteenth century English novel. Daria imagined the University gift shop could make a killing at Christmastime selling miniature versions of the campus piece-by-piece to the same collectors who buy dozens of Dickens village pieces.  As she descended the winding stairs, she noticed that one building stood out from the rest. The library's severe concrete construction was in stark contrast to the surrounding buildings, but its style made it look more like a fortress than a modern office building. Daria appreciated the fact that the sort of place she would go to retreat from the craziness of other people actually looked like it could withstand the ravening hordes.

 

When she finally reached the stadium bleachers, she was able to quickly spot her sister's long fiery hair and signature pink tee. She quietly slid into the seat next to her father while Quinn made a concerted effort not to react to her arrival, suddenly very interested in adjusting her pair of designer sunglasses. The speakers blaring top 40 hits from the stadium stage faded out, and a hush fell over the crowd as the convocation ceremony prepared to begin. "Heya, Kiddo," Jake greeted Daria. "Did ya get all your stuff moved in okay?"

 

"SHHHHHH!!!!!" a woman in front of them hissed as she turned around to face them. Jake was in the middle of preparing his response in the form of the appropriately rude hand gesture when he caught a good look at her. Her hair was yanked back in a bun so severe that it tugged at the edges of her eyes, and she was clad in a tailor-made power suit that Daria's mother could only fantasize about affording. “Eep!” Jake winced, then turned to Daria and whispered, "How's your room?"

 

"It's … fine, Dad," Daria reassured him. "But we can talk about my new life in Malibu Barbie's Dream Dorm (TM) after this is over." She leaned in to see if Quinn was still actively pretending to not have anything to do with the family, and noticed a shock of magenta further down the aisle. A girl, presumably another new student, had her feet on the back of the chair in front of her and was leaning in to re-lace her combat boots. When she lifted her head up, Daria noticed that her lipstick was the same shade of magenta as her hair. She looked back at Daria and waved, flashing a quick, nervous smile. Daria snapped back into her seat, now very aware of the fact that she had been staring.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Onstage, university president Randall Jones delivered his welcome speech to the entering class:

"At one point after the publication of the Declaration of Independence, Benjamin Franklin was conversing with some friends at a local Philadelphia tavern, when a young man who had overheard him discussing the Declaration accosted him. Slandering the document, the young man shouted at Franklin: 'Aw, them words don't mean nothing at all. Where's all the happiness the document says it guarantees us?'

"Franklin replied sympathetically, 'My friend, the Declaration of Independence only guarantees the American people the right to pursue happiness. You have to catch it yourself!'

"So it is with your time here at Raft. You will have many opportunities, but it is incumbent on you to catch them. Indeed, 150 years ago, General Nathan Raft reminded the very first class of students of that necessity with these words: 'Upon the individual efforts of each of you mainly depends his or her future success in life. ... All that we can do for you is to place the opportunities within your reach; it rests with you to grasp and improve them.'

"I welcome all our new students and their parents to the Raft family. Students, I hope your time here transforms your lives, just as it has transformed the lives of so many alumni. And, finally, I hope your time here will help to provide a foundation on which you will make your contributions to a better future for yourselves and the generations that will follow."

There was something about the President's speech that sounded familiar to Daria, beyond the Ben Franklin quote. She couldn't place it at the moment, but made a point to look it up once her computer was up and running.

Meanwhile, the crowd was dispersing, and Daria was able to talk to her family without threat of high-powered shushening. "Allright, we sat through the stupid revocation or whatever," Quinn said, "and Daria's already moved in. Can we go now, Daddy?"

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Jake turned in his seat to address his youngest daughter. "Now hang on a minute, Quinn! This is a big day for Daria, and we're gonna be here for her to make sure she's got everything she needs." He returned his attention to Daria, and his eyes suddenly lit up with recognition. "Oh! Speaking of making sure you get everything. Your mom asked me to make sure you open this tonight when you get back to your room."  He handed her a sealed greeting card with her name written on it in her mother's elegant, meticulously-practiced script.

Daria took the card and slipped it into her jacket pocket. "Thanks, Dad. I, um ... I know it wasn't easy doing all of this without Mom's help." She stood up and turned toward the quad. "But pretty much everything is taken care of. I just have go to my orientation meeting and pick up my books, and I can do both of those without you and Quinn. You should go with her to the barbecue. It'll be a chance for you to replenish all the calories you burned screaming at Massachusetts drivers on the way here, and Quinn can get showered with attention without fear of family association." She looked down at Quinn, who was already adjusting her hair and getting ready to head to the nearby pavilion. Quinn sped to the edge of the bleachers, then stopped and turned around.

When the hug came, it caught Daria completely by surprise. One moment her sister was preparing to make a beeline for the nearest cluster of fraternity brothers, the next she was squeezing Daria with a force she must only apply when carrying armloads of clothes home from Cashman's. "This is really it, huh?" Quinn said into Daria's shoulder, " the last time I'll see you." Daria could feel her sniffle through the material of her jacket.

"Uh-oh. You came within three feet of me in public, and even made an actual gesture of familiarity," Daria remarked. "did somebody forget to tell me that this college thing is terminal?" This was enough to break Quinn's iron grip, and they both relaxed.

Quinn tried to transition a sob into a scoff, but got stuck in the middle. "God, Daria. I'm not that ashamed of you. Anymore. And you may not think so right now, but Thanksgiving is a long way away. Who am I gonna talk to when Mom and Dad are being weird?"

"I'm sure your friends in the Former Fashion Club will be happy to pretend like they're listening to you. They always did before."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Sandi would just accuse me of taking attention away from her, Staci's probably imagining moving into your old room, and  think I've had better conversations with my _hairbrush_ than with Tiffany," she said. "But speaking of friends, what are you gonna do without Jane?"

The thought had occurred to Daria that she would have to adjust to no longer having a partner in misanthropy, but it hadn't really hit home until now. "I'll be fine. I did okay without a best friend before, and even if worse comes worst it'll only be six months before she moves up here too."

Quinn gave a warm nod, then added, "Just make sure you don't start talking to yourself out loud again. We all hear you when you do that, even if we pretend that we don't." She turned and headed for the pavilion, calling back over her shoulder. "Come ON, Daddy!"

Daria turned to face her father. "Better keep an eye on her, Dad. We don't want her to get crowned Keg Queen again."

Jake's eyebrows furrowed as he recalled their trip to visit Middleton College. " _Damn college punks_. " He returned his attention to Daria. "Are you sure you'll be okay here?  If you get in trouble, or you need anything ..."  

"I'll call Mom," Daria finished, to Jake's visible relief. She hugged him, and he returned the embrace, lifting her up slightly as he did.  "Now go get some hot dogs."

Jake smiled. "That sounds like a great idea. Knock 'em dead, Kiddo!" He gave her a thumbs-up as he headed down the stadium stairs.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Daria checked the paper in her handout against the sign on the door in front of her. Both read EATON 103. Behind the door, she could hear at least a dozen people talking quietly. "Well, this is a good sign," she thought. "I don't hear anybody overturning desks or screeching like wild animals. Maybe there's hope for this bunch yet." She pulled the door and stepped inside.

Eaton 103 sported the same faintly blue-tinted fluorescent lights, gray carpet, and arrangement of thirty-or-so desks and chairs as nearly every smaller classroom  Daria had seen when touring colleges. The only real difference she noticed was that this one had large windows that looked down the hill, onto the campus. She wound her way around the gaggle of conversing students to find a seat near the window, and noticed that the seat afforded a surprisingly close view of the pavilion's blue and white tents. It looked like the barbecue was still in full swing.

After a couple of minutes, the Orientation Leader entered the room and loudly shut the door. It was the staffer Daria had seen earlier at the entrance to Poplar Hall. He had replaced his blue-and-white plastic hard hat with a sideways blue-and-white baseball cap, University logo stitched on its front. Daria noticed that his eyes were so lidded that they were nearly shut, and she couldn't help but guess what he had been up to in the intervening hour.      

"All right, everybody," he motioned for everyone to take their seats. "For those of you who haven't met me already, my name's Andy. I'll be your Orientation Leader and Peer Facilitator for your first year here at Raft. Today we're going to be going over the basics of student life, getting to know each other, and answering any questions you may have." Andy's speech pattern seemed unusually slow-paced, as though his thoughts were playing out at half the usual RPM. He didn't seem distracted or confused, though, which was actually fairly impressive if Daria's theory was correct.

Unfortunately, Daria found herself unable to fix her attention on Andy's voice. Her eyes wandered to the window and the pavilion below. As she squinted, she thought she could see a pink-clad redhead surrounded by several large, shirtless men attending to her every whim. A little further down, she could see a line of people near one of the grills. One of the men tried to go backwards in the line, and suddenly the staffers and the man seemed to be yelling and gesturing wildly. Over the rustle of the afternoon breeze, Daria was sure she could hear her father. "No, dammit! I Now wait a second, dammit! All I said was ‘what are those funny-looking burgers on the side?’ I never asked for one of your lousy fair-trade compost patties! Here, take it back!” He thrust his plate at the grill-tender as two security guards moved in to surround him. “ _I WILL NOT BE CRUSHED UNDER THE GEARS OF YOUR FASCIST COMMUNIST MACHINE, DAMMIT!_ All I wanted was a hot dog!” he wailed as the guards carried him off. Quinn, likely realizing that her father was her ride home and that she’d be stranded without him, rushed to pursue the security guards. Her entourage fell into step behind her, not one of them stopping to put on a shirt.   

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

As Daria removed her hands from over her face (where she had been watching through the spaces between her fingers), she noticed that the other students were standing up and moving into the center of the room, forming a circle around Andy. “C’mon! Everybody in. We’re going to do a couple of icebreakers to get to know one another” he announced, now at something approaching a normal speaking cadence. Daria filtered in with the lot, doing her best to stand offset and behind the two students on either side of her. “We’ll start here on my left,” Andy said. “When it’s your turn, I want you to tell everyone your name and something you like to do that begins with the same first letter. Something like, ‘My name is Andy, and I like archery.’ See? It’s easy!” He gestured to the student at his left. “Go on, introduce yourself.”

A blond-haired girl dressed in a pair of orange plaid short shorts and a tank top decorated with an adorable cartoon pig above the words “Pigs are friends - not food” took a step forward. When she did, Daria noticed that her feet were bare. “My name is Lacey, and I like to liberate” she said, nodding sharply. The group did not react. Her arm twitched as if it were about to shoot skyward in a revolutionary gesture, but Lacey simply shoved her hand into her tiny shorts pocket and stepped back into the circle.  As she did, the guy to her left took three steps directly into the center. His dirty blonde hair was slicked back, and he was outfitted in a pastel turquoise T-shirt under a light gray blazer with matching slacks. He reached up to set his designer aviator sunglasses on his head, making eye contact with as many of the female students as he could. “My name is Warner,” he oozed, “and I love to win.” He flicked the sunglasses back down over his eyes and slid back to his spot.

The girl to Warner’s left squealed as he returned to her side, and flashed him a look so lustful that Daria almost turned away. She squeezed his hand with one quick pulse before bounding into the center of the group. “My name is Bonnie, and I love ballet” she declared before performing a dizzying set of pirouettes. For a moment she was a blur of aggressive, yet tightly controlled motion. When she finally ran out of momentum, she flashed a crocodile smile and leapt back to the edge of the circle, pecking Warner on the cheek as she returned to her place.   

Daria saw the magenta-haired girl from convocation take a single step toward the center. She was holding a piece of notebook paper in her right hand. “Ok, sooo, my name is Joan, and the only thing I could think of for things I love that begin with the letter ‘J’ is my jump-shot...”  She crumpled the paper into a ball and closed her eyes. With a woosh, she pivoted and coiled before springing up and letting out a grunt so feminine and dainty she could have been mistaken for a cartoon mouse. The paper ball flew from her outstretched hand and across the length of the room, rustling the plastic liner as it fell neatly into the wastebasket next to the door. After the thud of her combat boots returning to ground, the room was silent. She continued, “... but I don’t really play anymore. I’d much rather spend my time making jump cuts” she added, holding up her fingers in a rectangle to imitate the frame of a movie camera. She gave a nervous chuckle, then slipped back into the crowd.

 

After Joan returned, the next student stepped up. Daria recognized him immediately; she had seen him hanging by his belt from the roof of her dorm earlier in the day. He looked somewhat dishevelled, and there were fresh rips and scratches in his long-sleeve black tee shirt and dark gray cargo pants. “Greetings, fellow students! I am Ron Stoppable, international man of mystery and adventure, and I love to rappel." He unclipped a piece of climbing equipment from his belt and flipped it in the air. Just as he was about to catch it, his belt buckle came undone and his pants began to fall. Ron yelped, and scrambled to grab both the ascender and his rapidly descending cargoes. He lost his footing and fell onto a nearby desk, but managed to catch both before they fell. He quickly stuffed the ascender into a cargo pocket and tightened his belt around his waist, giving a nervous laugh that even he knew was a futile grasp at dignity. Once fully clothed, he walked back to his starting position.

 

The next person to step forward was a young man with a large afro, wearing an orange-and-white plaid flannel shirt and carrying a guitar slung over his shoulder. He looked the most naturally relaxed of all the students so far, especially in contrast to Warner’s forced swagger and Andy’s altered state. “Hey everyone. I’m Noser,” he paused as he reached into his pocket, producing a small packet of geranium seeds, “and I love nature.” He pivoted slowly, then walked back to the edge of the circle, next to Daria.

 

Time slowed to an interminable crawl. All of the color faded from the room, and there was a deafening silence. Daria knew that everyone in the room was staring at her, waiting for her to embarrass herself. Her mother’s advice about first impressions ricocheted off the inner walls of her skull. This was her first chance to put her past behind her since the day her family moved to Lawndale, and this time Quinn couldn’t swoop in to capture everyone’s attention. She couldn’t decide whether that would be better or worse than what was happening right now, but it certainly felt worse. She felt her body take a step forward, despite every other part of her wishing it not to.

 

“I... I’m Daria, and I like to …” she paused, suddenly all too aware of how few seconds it took to get to the conversational cliff. _Die?_ she thought for an instant, before banishing the impulse. Even in her worst moments, it was never herself that she wanted to die; it was everyone else. Disappear would certainly satisfy her lizard brain, being so comfortably familiar with the -flight response as it was. Unfortunately, the length of the classroom and twenty expectant first-years stood between her and freedom. With escape plans abandoned, her mind jumped back to verbs beginning with D. _Damage? Dismantle? Disarm? Destroy? Devastate?_ All exciting verbs, but she was in no hurry to end up on the wrong side of University Police on her first day. Not for a stupid icebreaker, at least.  

The world drew even closer around Daria, and the silence grew painfully loud.

 

_Can’t speak … must speak …_

 

“Dance?” she blurted out. The word hadn’t had a chance to clear the tip of her tongue before she began cursing herself. _Dance?_ Where did that even come from? The world returned to its color, but the silence remained. Daria could all but hear the sound of twenty right eyebrows raising as the students continued to stare at her. She swallowed so loudly she was amazed the windows didn’t shatter from the force. Where the students’ looks had been expectant, now they were demanding. She knew that she had to do something.

 

Daria raised her right arm as if to ask a question, with her elbow locked at a 90-degree angle. Without moving a muscle on the rest of her body, she slowly swung her hand down and up. Down, and up, and down, and up. It looked for all the world like she was ineffectually swatting at an invisible piňata. Though she was trying not to pay attention to the faces of her classmates, she could not help but notice that most of them were now desperately avoiding looking directly at her. Her Plan B had worked after all. After completing her fourth swat, Daria lowered her hand to her side and stepped back into the circle. She could hear Bonnie struggling to stifle her laughter.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

The next few minutes were a blur for Daria. She was dimly aware of the rest of the group, but didn’t register their names or verbs. Because the session was running over schedule, Andy split the group into smaller clusters to play a second icebreaker called “two truths and a lie.” In this game, each person “revealed” three details about him/herself, with one of the details being made up on the spot. Everyone else then had to guess which detail was the lie. Daria sat down in a desk to get her bearings, and found herself in a circle with the students who had gone before her in the first game.

 

Noser spoke up first, and though he was still next to Daria, his chair was pointed so that the group’s focus was drawn toward the side furthest from her. When he spoke, his voice carried the words with the smoothness and calm of a vintage record player. “Hey again, everybody. I’m still Noser, and here are three things about me.  I study botany, and I’ve already gotten a paper published in Flora. I’m an accomplished ventriloquist, and my dummy’s name is Mister Brown…” he shifted in his seat and gently ran his hand across the strings of his guitar. “... and I’ve never been beaten at a game of Stump the Band” he ended with a smile. The group made their guesses, but there was no consensus. Noser shook his head, still smiling. “It was the second,” he revealed. “I would never name my dummy something as uninspired as Mister Brown.”

 

“Allright,” said Ron as he cracked his knuckles, “get ready to have your minds blown. I, Ron Stoppable, am the inventor of the Naco, the fast food sensation available at Bueno Nacho restaurants across this great nation. I trained for years to become a master of Monkey style kung fu, and I’m studying to be an actuary like my father.”  This time, the vote strongly for the second detail. “OK, ya got me,” Ron admitted, “I didn’t train to become a master of Monkey kung fu. I did it the old-fashioned way: I had the knowledge zapped into me by a jade monkey statue.”

 

“Ron, if you’re not going to be honest, there’s no point in playing the game” Andy chastised from his spot between several groups. Ron gave him a confused look, then shrugged.   

 

The group turned their heads to face Joan. “Fine, let’s just get this dumb game over with” she said. “I’m Joan of a ***ahem!*** ” Her eyes went wide, and she coughed suddenly. “Sorry. Had a tickle there. I’m Joan … D’Arcy, and I make experimental video art so personal that only Sigmund Freud would understand it, even though I wish he didn’t.  I dressed up in men’s clothes and a fake mustache so that I could play on the boys’ basketball team in high school, and my only surviving loved one is my former principal’s butler who wears a red cardigan and calls everyone Wesley.” The group voted unanimously for Joan’s third detail, which caused her to scoff. “Too out there to believe, huh? I guess so.”

 

Bonnie made a concerted effort to lean in her chair so she could stare down her nose at Joan. “Ew, we’re so done with you now. Freak. Now you all get to learn about me!” Her eyes lit up as she changed topics to what was clearly her favorite subject. “Like I said earlier, I’m a ballerina, and studied ballet intensively for the past fifteen years. But that one doesn’t count for my three because I said it already. I was captain of the cheerleading team, and the most popular girl in Middleton High School. My father is the CEO of Rockwaller Investment Group, and I once single-handedly saved the world from a mad scientist!”  

 

At this, Ron’s fist clenched so hard that he snapped his pencil in half. It took him a moment to notice that his hand had turned blue, and that what he had been holding was, in fact, a pen. “Um, excuse me! Gotta go take care of this!” he blurted as he pushed up out of his desk and scrambled toward the hallway. The rest of the group voted for the third detail. “Wrong!” Bonnie shouted, “I really did! Well, okay. This other girl helped a little bit. She was the real captain of the cheerleading team, too. But I was at the top of the food chain! I even got elected captain once, but let her keep it because I had more important things to do.” Bonnie crossed her arms and puffed an errant strand of hair out of her face.

 

Warner put his hand on Bonnie’s shoulder. “Easy there, pooh-bear. Everybody knows you’re the best. You don’t have to prove it to nobodies like them.” He faced the group and gave an uncomfortable smile, “no offense.  Anyway, it’s my turn. I’m Warner Huntington the Third, and I’m studying political science so I can be a U.S. senator, just like Warner Huntington the First and Second. I drive a 2001 Aston Martin Vanquish, and my older brother Grant just got engaged to a Vanderbilt.” Daria wasn’t sure when it happened, but at some point while Warner was talking he had slipped his sunglasses on. When he was finished, he flashed a more practiced smile and sat back in his chair.

 

The group’s vote was divided more out of apathy than out of confusion. “It’s actually a 2003 Aston Martin Vanquish,” Warner revealed, flashing his keyring before returning it to his pocket.

 

Lacey turned to Warner and asked, “Leather seats?”

 

“Rich Corinthian, babe” he replied. “I’d offer to show you sometime, but, heh, you’re really not my type.”

 

Lacey bristled. “Don’t flatter yourself, butcher.” She turned her attention to the group.

 

“Hey everyone! My name is Lacey Thornfield. I’m an animal rights activist, and was arrested for throwing fake blood on fur-wearers at my school’s Founders Day party. My most treasured possession is my giant yellow teddy bear costume. My mother, Dr. Barbara Thornfield M.D. Ph.D.  is a doctor, lecturer and philanthropist, and has Henry Kissinger on speed-dial.”

 

The group, including two visibly offended members of the privileged elite class, voted for the third detail. “Really, you guys?” Lacey said, blushing. “You think I’m the kind of person who dances around her apartment in a yellow bear suit?” She sat back in her chair and avoided looking any of them in the eyes.

 

Daria was feeling steadier than before, and seeing the way that her group interacted with one another was helping her to feel less like she was adrift in an ocean of scrutiny. She sat up slightly in her chair. “Allright. My name is Daria Morgendorffer. I vandalized my own school art project to keep it from being adulterated by the principal. I incited an anti-Communist riot at my local internet cafe, and I once helped cupid and a leprechaun save Christmas, Halloween, and Guy Fawkes’ Day from a band of self-obsessed teenagers.” Finished, she resumed her more comfortable slouch.

 

The members of the group looked at Daria with puzzled expressions, But all voted for the third detail. Daria nodded. “I see that you all believe that I’m a violent criminal, but not a deranged one. My plan is working perfectly.”

 

When the groups had all finished, Andy called their attention to the items in their welcome packets. He went over the campus map, the important phone numbers, the social calendar, and several other items that Daria had either already read or determined she did not care about.

 

Finally, he urged everyone to leave the classroom and meet more of their fellow Raft students at the barbecue. Within seconds, the room had all but emptied. As Bonnie and Warner walked out arm in arm, Daria could see her laughing and imitating Daria’s arm movement from earlier. She tried not to let it get to her while she gathered her things and headed for the door, curious to see what had happened to her father. “Hey,” a voice behind her called.

 

Daria looked over her shoulder and saw that Joan was the only other student left in the room. “I like your boots,” she said to Daria.

 

“Uh, thanks,” Daria replied. “I like your hair.”

 

“Thanks!” Joan returned. “Hey, you look like you could use a break from being around all these people. I know I could.  I saw a pizza place a couple blocks from here on my way in. Do you wanna skip the barbecue and go hang out there?”

 

A slow smile appeared on Daria’s face. “Actually, yes. But we have to stop by the Security office on the way. I need to make sure they didn’t detain my dad as an enemy of the state after his hot dog manifesto.”

 

“That was your dad?!” Joan laughed, then caught herself. “I mean, I’m sure he’s fine. The Raft UP can’t even carry guns, just tasers.”  

 

“Then it’s a good thing he didn’t actually need a pacemaker after that heart attack” Daria mused as she headed for the door. Joan followed, unsure whether she should ask if Daria’s last comment was actually a joke.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

An hour and a half later, Daria and Joan returned to campus with a half-filled box of pizza in tow. As they both headed into Poplar Hall, each was confused as to why the other hadn’t parted ways yet. “Um, what floor?” Daria asked as the elevator door closed.  

 

“Fifth,” Joan answered. “Thanks for walking back with me. Where’s your room?”

 

“... Fifth floor,” Daria replied.

 

“Oh! That’s convenient,” Joan said. “It’s good to know that there’ll be someone with some sense nearby if my roommate turns out to be a total nightmare.”

 

The elevator stopped and opened its doors to the fifth floor. “You haven’t met your roommate yet?” Daria asked.

 

“No, she wasn’t there when I got in early this morning” Joan explained. “When I asked about it downstairs, they said she was meeting with the president or something.”

 

Daria raised an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t happen to be in 510, would you?”

 

“Yeah. How did you know?” Joan asked.

 

“It looks like we’re going to be neighbors. And you’d better check your furniture for damage.I saw that guy Ron hanging from the roof as he was moving your roommate’s stuff into your room earlier today … _by catapult_. Speaking of which, you might want to invest in some curtains. And maybe a taser of your own.”

 

Joan chuckled, then her eyes went wide when she realized how much of Daria’s advice was literal. A strong wind whipped the door to 510 open as soon as Joan turned the key, and they could see that the glass of the window was still laid neatly beside one of the desks.

Joan clucked her tongue. “Okaaaaaay, that’s gonna be a problem. Whaddaya say we hang out in your room, Daria? At least until Facilities can get the window back in place.”

 

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d really like some time alone” Daria said. “Like you said before, I could use a break from being around people.”

 

Joan nodded. “No problem. I should probably go talk to our RA about this anyway.” With that, she turned and headed to the RA’s room at the far end of the hall.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Daria fished her keys out of her jacket pocket and went to open her door. It was unlocked, and she could hear the radio on inside.  She opened the door, and the fumes of a dozen harsh chemicals attacked her nose. Daria coughed and covered her mouth with her sleeve, dropping the pizza box in the process. “[What’s going on here?]” she asked, voice muffled by her jacket.

 

Elle sat with her back to the door, dressed in a light blue bathrobe patterned with fluffy white anthropomorphic clouds. She was leaning back in her chair, feet up on the edge of the desk, cotton balls between her freshly-painted toes. Pieces of her hair were covered in tin foil, and an array of beauty tools were laid out on the desk next to a bowl of some sort of white liquid. As the smell filtered around her jacket, Daria recognized it as bleach. The lights around Elle’s mirror were so bright, Daria was surprised she hadn’t seen them from the quad.  “Huh?” Elle said, struggling to twist to face the door without moving her feet.

 

Daria took as deep a breath as she could, then dropped her arm to her side. “I said, ‘what’s going on here?’ Did you rent our room out to a salon? Because if so, I demand a cut of the profit. Off the top.”  

 

“Sorry, Dee. I‘m kind of in the middle of a ritual here, and the bathrooms down the hall don’t have enough space for me to do it there. Plus, they’re _grody_.”

 

“Well, could you at least open the windows? It’s *cough* toxic in here.”  Daria moved to the window and attempted to slide it open. It did not budge.

 

Elle’s brow furrowed. “I tried, but the windows are stuck. It’ll be fine, though. I have a high tolerance for hair care treatments.” She turned back to resume work on her toenails. “And besides, it’ll be fine if you just leave the door open.”

 

“I don’t _want_ to leave the door open” Daria said, slamming the door shut behind her. “and I don’t want my room to be choked with bleach fumes.  What I want is to sit on my bed, read my book, and forget for a couple of hours that I’m in an unfamiliar place surrounded by strangers who so far seem only marginally better than the vapid overprivileged idiots I was trying so hard to escape from in my hometown. “

 

“It’s not _your_ room, Daria,” Elle replied, her voice sounding less composed than before. “It’s ours. I have just as much of a right to my comfort rituals as you do to yours.”

 

Daria scoffed, then coughed again. “I guess you don’t notice how much of a bad sign it is that your comfort rituals involve applying poison chemicals to your body so that other people will like you more. You really are living the Malibu Barbie dream, Elle.” She glanced at Elle’s table, and saw that the framed picture of her boyfriend had fallen over. She recognized the face from orientation, and realized that it was the same Warner Huntington III.

 

“If that’s why you think I’m doing this, then you don’t know the first thing about me,” Elle shot back, her voice both piercing and unsteady. “And maybe you’re not as good a judge of character as you think you are.”

 

If Daria hadn’t been so determined to keep a stone face, she would have grinned from ear to ear. This was the opportunity, the clean shot she had been waiting for. My name is Daria, and I like to dismember.  “I know enough to have seen Warner during orientation today, and to tell that he’s never going to give you as much as another look. Bad news, Elle. He’s found a new Barbie with a bigger dream house and a tinier waist.” The memory of Bonnie imitating and laughing at her flashed across Daria’s mind.  “And from what I saw of them together, they deserve each other.”

 

“ **I KNOW** ,” Elle shouted, then began sobbing. “I know.”

 

Daria took a step closer to Elle. From this angle the light from Elle’s mirror was not as blinding, and Daria could see that the had been crying. “I ran into him and … _her_ … at the barbecue. And nothing you can say to me now will hurt as much as hearing him call her pooh-bear in front of me. I thought we were in love, but I was just another toy to him.”  Elle grabbed a tissue from the box on her desk and gently dabbed her eyes. “And HER! I’ve never seen someone be so eager to use her own happiness into a weapon against people who are lower on the ‘food chain.’  She was so callous, so malicious, so … _mean_. She’s everything that I promised myself I would never be, and he chose _her_!  UGH!” With this, Elle began sobbing incoherently into her tissues.

 

The chemicals in the air were no longer the only thing making it hard for Daria to breathe. She felt like she had just taken a two-fisted haymaker to her hubris. She pulled the chair from her desk and sat down next to Elle’s, reaching tentatively toward her. “... I’m sorry” she said.

 

Elle swatted away Daria’s hand with a fistful of wet tissues. “Please don’t touch me right now, Daria. I just want to finish my bleaching and painting, and not think about how I threw my future away trying to please a total butthead.”

  
Daria backed away from Elle, and spotted something jutting out from one of her own moving boxes. She walked over to the box, grabbed the object, and addressed her roommate. “All right, Elle. But remember, *cough* that butthead doesn’t control you anymore. And I think anybody who gets as excited about _Frankenstein_ as you did this morning is smart enough to do well here.” She pulled the object - her father’s missing metal crowbar - out of the box and walked toward the window. “Like the guy in the dumb plastic hard hat said at move-in,  we’re here to build our future. Now, help me pry this window open so we can actually _survive_ long enough to do it.”


End file.
